I Ain't Afraid Of No Ghost, Wait, Ghost?
by silverluna
Summary: Episode Tag to 2x07 "Ka Iwi Kapu (Sacred Bones)". After Steve, Chin, Kono and Lori have helped him move in, Danny discovers via the new landlady that the woman he spoke to outside was actually a ghost, and flees his new apartment. Steve runs after Danny and forces him to tell him what's going on. NOT SLASH.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Characters: Danny Williams, Steve McGarrett

No pairings, NO SLASH. Just friendship.

Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, One-shot, Short, Episode Tag

Rating: T for language

Summary: Episode Tag to 2x07 "Ka Iwi Kapu (Sacred Bones)". After Steve, Chin, Kono and Lori have helped him move in, Danny discovers via the new landlady that the woman he spoke to outside was actually a ghost, and flees his new apartment. Steve runs after Danny and forces him to tell him what's going on.

Author's Note: After seeing this episode for the third time (and of course loving it all over again), I was inspired to write a little tag for what happens in the moments after Danny runs out of the apartment with Steve chasing him. Just a little fun friendship and drama with a smidgen of hurt/comfort thrown in.

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**I Ain't Afraid Of No Ghost . . . Wait, Ghost?**

A _Hawaii Five-0_ Story

by silverluna

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Danny stopped just short of the elevator shaft, doors closed, helpful "out of order" sign stuck over the buttons. An overwhelming panic was working itself through his skin, spreading itself out like a creature with many limbs. Unable to help himself, he replayed the landlady's words on loop in his head.

"_It sounds like you're describing Mrs. Kekoa. Mrs. Kekoa died five years ago. She fell down the elevator shaft."_

But he'd seen her, clear as day, and her little dog too. She was no apparition, no spirit gone away. He'd spoken to her. Sweat broke out on his forehead, under his arms, and he took in breaths so quickly he felt lightheaded. Danny put a hand out to the wall to steady himself.

_No way. No way, this isn't real. This is _not_ happening._

It all had to be someone's idea of a sick joke, right? Just another way to get back at him for not respecting the Hawaiian culture? For trampling the Heiau before it was properly blessed so he could get at the crime scene asap? Because the two rocks through his windshield and back window hadn't been enough, evidently. And because every other decent and affordable apartment on this god-forsaken, pineapple-infested hell-hole of an island had to be made unavailable to him within the span of two days. No. Someone _had_ to take it one step further.

Danny closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, trying to make good sense of all this. Despite the coolness of the air conditioning, sweat trickled down his temples.

"_Mrs. Kekoa died five years ago. She fell down the elevator shaft."_

"Oh god, oh god," Danny moaned, running a hand across his forehead. "I'm going to be sick." He actually felt dizzy, like he should sit down for a few moments and not put any more pressure on his wobbly legs. He usually prided himself on being a tough guy, relatively unshakable by everything, except anything Grace-related or all the times that Steve recklessly put him in some kind of mortal danger. So, maybe, half the time he was pretty tough. So something like this, like a . . . a . . .

"A ghost," he murmured, sliding down the wall. A ghost shouldn't be knocking him for such a loop. Right?

Steve appeared suddenly, gripping Danny's bicep and yanking him upright.

"Aneurysm face," Danny muttered, taking in Steve's anger that crouched like a wild animal about to pounce. "Oh shit."

He'd almost forgotten, almost literally forgotten, that the rest of 5-0—his friends—had helped him get moved in. And that he'd—in the moments following the sheer terror of the realization that Mrs. Kekoa was—_dead_—clapped his hands once and told the landlady "we're going to leave" and for everyone to "pack it up", before darting out of the apartment to freak out in private.

"Steve. I—I was just clearing my head," Danny lied, ignoring the fact Steve's face was too close to his—like some Army drill sergeant about to call him a maggot and order him to drop and do fifty pushups.

"Bullshit," Steve countered. "What the hell do you mean, Danno? We _just_ got you all moved in. I overheard you ask Lori to start painting Grace's new bedroom."

Danny was about to push Steve back a little so he had more breathing room when he realized Steve's hand was still holding his arm—essentially keeping him upright and against the wall.

"What's wrong with you?" Steve demanded.

Danny shook his head slowly, trying to convey all his meanings at once. No, he didn't want to explain. Yes, he was fine and not about to pass out. But Steve had not backed off and could smell a lie a mile away. It was a Super SEAL thing.

Steve frowned, trying to focus on Danny's physical and emotional state through the dark veil of his own anger and confusion. He hadn't heard Danny's conversation with the landlady, but obviously some significant words were exchanged, enough to turn Danny's relief at moving in to a nice place a full 180. Danny, he suspected, hadn't suddenly grown a conscience about scaring the landlady into offering the apartment at a cut rate. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you so quiet?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. He took a step back and released Danny's arm. "Why aren't you ranting?"

The second his arm was free, Danny slumped. He heard Steve curse, and caught himself against the wall, bending his knees a bit to lean into it. "I'm fine," he managed to croak, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"What happened?" Steve demanded louder, though this demand was tinged with real concern. "Are you sick?"

Danny shook his head, and heard Steve growl. Right, he couldn't lie. He made himself look Steve in the eye and whispered, "I can't move into Kapuloha Apartments because it's haunted. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know it was haunted before or else I wouldn't have had all you guys help me move in—"

"What the hell are you talking about, Danny?" Steve shouted.

Danny winced and let himself slide to the floor. In spite of being physically present in the here and now, Danny kept flashing back to his encounter with the ghost woman, and then hearing the landlady's words.

"_She died five years ago. She fell down the elevator shaft."_

"What?" Steve snapped. "Who died? What are you talking about? Get up, get off the floor, Danno!"

"Oh," Danny muttered, looking up at Steve who was offering his hand. _Christ, did I say that out loud?_ he wondered. He let Steve grab his forearm and pull him back into a standing position. "The ghost people are punishing me," he told Steve, his tone devoid of sarcasm. "You were . . . shit. I guess you were right." He gave Steve a sheepish smile.

"You're white as a ghost yourself," Steve told him, frowning again. "And it's Ghost Soldiers, they protect the Heiau."

"Fine, fine, whatever," Danny conceded. "I should go pack."

"No way, not until you give me a damn good reason for all of this. Explain." Steve crossed his arms and waited.

It wasn't often that Danny felt even slightly intimidated by the intensity in Steve's eyes, but now he knew he couldn't rant his way out of this. "All right. I saw a ghost, okay? Mrs. Kekoa. And her tiny dog. Yesterday, when Lori and I were here to investigate the apartment, I saw this—uh—I mean, what I thought was this old lady gardening out in front. She told me an apartment was available, I said it was too rich for my blood, and then she something was wrong with the elevator."

Danny swallowed, wanting a glass of water for his dry mouth. It just didn't make sense, she didn't look like an apparition—not the ones they showed in movies or in documentaries, the wavering, see-through kinds of people. "And then I said I was cursed." He put both hands over his face.

He heard Steve blow out a loud breath. "Danno got spooked?"

Gritting his teeth, he watched Steve give him a quick half smile, his eyes twinkling. "So help me, if you were behind all this! Goddamn you!"

Steve raised his hands in non-threatening gesture. "Hey, Danny. I already had my say about your disrespect for the Heiau, okay? In what time could I have had to orchestrate a hoax?"

Danny's seconds-old anger dropped away. It was easier to be angry, to think he'd been set up, then to think . . .

"Okay, all right," Danny said by way of apology. "Yes, yes, Steven. I was spooked." He sighed and touched his hair, absently pushing a lock out of place.

"So, what else aren't you telling me?"

Danny took a shaky breath. "Just now, I was about the sign the last of the papers, and I asked about a pet deposit, so I could get Gracie a dog. The landlady said they have a strict anti-pet policy, and then I brought in that old lady, the one with the floppy hat and the little rat of a dog. And she told me that . . ."

"She died five years ago? She fell down the elevator shaft?" After a solid five seconds of seriousness from Danny, Steve laughed in his face. "You said that before, Danny. _Oh_." He gave Danny a better once over, realizing what he saw on Danny was real fear, and a shifty nervousness that looked bad on him. He was pale and sweating, seeming unsure of his footing, maybe close to passing out. Steve kept the smile to himself; hopefully, for his partner's sake, more respect would be shown to the Hawaiian culture's traditions and beliefs in the future, no matter how odd they might seem to Danny.

"Yes, 'oh.' So you get it, I can't live in an apartment complex that's haunted," Danny repeated.

Steve nodded. "Especially not one that makes your hair go prematurely white." He gestured to Danny's errant lock of hair.

"What?" Danny spun around, frantically trying to get a glimpse of his reflection in the elevator doors. His image was too distorted, the colors too off, for him to judge. Steve snickered behind his hand.

Steve placed his arm across Danny's shoulder and guided him back around in the direction of his almost cut rate apartment. "You're golden. Come on," he said with a sigh. "Let's get you moved out in an hour. And just so you know, you now owe me two beers."


End file.
